


Back (Places We've Been)

by euhemeria



Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [80]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Learning to trust, finding one's place, introductions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23490196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euhemeria/pseuds/euhemeria
Summary: Lúcio seems nice enough, but Ana, after so many years spent in isolation, does not really know what to do with it, that friendliness, is not sure how to respond.Or,Ana tries to learn to connect with people, again, following her time as the Shrike.
Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [80]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/508281
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Back (Places We've Been)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this like five months ago for a friends bday but anyway im posting it now so this_is_what_you_get.jpg

How does one measure friendliness? What makes someone a more or less friendly person? Is it a measure of politeness, or of the intention behind one’s actions? Ought one to weigh more the number of friendships a person has, or the depths of those bonds? Must one be outgoing to be friendly, or merely receptive to others’ friendly gestures?

Ana is not certain, but she knows within minutes of meeting him that Lúcio is _friendly_ , and she herself is… less so. She does not think herself unfriendly, of course, but she is by a considerable margin less forthcoming than Lúcio is, less open.

(Maybe once, she might have been called friendly, by whatever metric one judges that, but now she is far too guarded, too suspicious, too untrusting of strangers and wary and weary both of losing those about whom she cares. She can be warm, can be kind, can be mothering, even, but that is its own form of distance—a mother is not equal to their child, always holds some sort of authority—and her lack of openness means that she always knows more about others than they know about her, allowing her to maintain that distance.)

She tries her best not to be rude, even so, tolerates his questions, even as she chafes at the fact that Angela has left her here under _supervision_ , as if she needed a babysitter.

Ostensibly, it is a necessary thing. After years spent ‘dead’, she has once again made herself known to those who joined the Overwatch Recall, has appeared again in their lives and is hoping to rejoin them, if only for a short time while their goals are similar, and her daughter is here. If Fareeha leaves, or their attention turns from Talon, she will not stay, will seek to help Jack end his pursuit of Gabriel some other way. 

Given what happened with Lacroix, all those years ago, it would be logical to suggest that she be monitored, after coming back from so long dead so suddenly. Or, that would be the case, if there were not people here who could vouch for her, who had been in contact with her years prior to this.

But Fareeha is not talking—not to her, at least—and so Angela has left her here.

(It is a punishment, she thinks, must be. It was Angela who answered the call when she told Fareeha she was coming. Angela, at 03:00, was the one to pick up Fareeha’s phone. It is an interesting development, and an unexpected one—she cannot remember Angela ever dating a woman, and she did not think her daughter the type to dally with a coworker—but one that, she cannot deny, makes sense. They are equally stubborn women, and it is for that stubbornness she is suffering now. When she wants to, Angela can be very petty, very passive aggressive, and very protective, too. If she thinks Fareeha hurt by Ana’s return, if she thinks Fareeha does not want to see Ana, then she would be more than willing to invent an excuse to leave Ana here, suffering through the boredom and indignity of _mandatory medical observation_ for a period of several days, even knowing that she is safe.)

It is not so terrible, being observed. Lúcio _seems_ nice enough.

But he is so very friendly, and Ana, after so many years spent in isolation, or with only Jack, does not really know what to do with it, that friendliness, is not sure how to respond.

So she sits, and she listens, and she plays the part of the mother, is kind and not too sharp, even when she wants to be. It is polite, and she knows that looking as she does now, frailer, it is almost believable. Then, she does not have to answer prying questions, will not find herself posed them. When he yawns, she recommends him a nice tea blend to help him get better sleep at night, and when he mentions any of the others, she tells only the kindest stories about them, keeps her usual sharp humor to a minimum—for now, at least.

Life on the run has taught Ana this: to trust anyone is dangerous.

So she approaches this conversation as if Lúcio were an enemy, and if, in time, he proves trustworthy, if he proves to really be on her side, be someone worthy of her respect and her time, then and only then will she let him in.

For now, however, she will remain guarded, remain suspicious.

What place has a DJ working with soldiers? What is he getting out of this? She has heard of him of course—everyone has—and knows his history opposing Vishkar, but that was personal, and this is not. 

Even if he is truly on their side, even if he is in this for the right reasons, truly believes in the cause and is not simply an idealist drawn to the idea of _helping_ people, doing something that matters, being a hero—and he would like that, she thinks, because it is simply another form of fame, more publicity—even if all of that is true, none of it guarantees that he has the stomach for this sort of work, that he will last long as a soldier, that he will stick around. 

There is no sense in opening herself up to someone whose very presence here makes her suspicious, no matter how kind and funny he is.

And he _is_ funny. She tries to not laugh too hard, when he tells her of Reinhardt’s misadventure earlier in the week, because it is not very _motherly_ of her, to find amusement in someone’s misfortune. Or, it is not motherly in other people’s eyes. They want mothers to be soft, to be kind, as if mothers are not people first and foremost, are not able to have a personality beyond caring for others. So soft she will be, for now. At least among the strangers, she can manage that, it will help her to control the way they respond to her, moving forward, will make them more likely to come to her, if they have problems, and from there—she can stay in control.

(In the old Overwatch, she never needed it so much, that sense of control, not until the very end when everything was slipping out of her grasp, when Jack and Gabriel were fighting and the world was turning against them. She took it for granted, before, that she could command respect, that despite what others might think of her initially, a woman, a mother, and one with an accent, to boot, she could prove herself competent, eventually, prove herself worthy, a good soldier and leader, and earn the trust of those who mattered. Now she knows that she was no exception to any rule, that she is just as vulnerable as the rest of them, and she will not make that mistake again, will do what she must to stay in control so that no one can turn on her.)

Acting never was her forte, however, so she tries to speak as little as possible, to respond as little as possible, and let him project onto her what he wants to see. Usually, that is a simple enough thing. Well-known as she is for her work during the Omnic Crisis, most everyone has some expectation of who she will be, what she will act like, and usually— _usually_ stoicism allows her to reflect that, passively, as they decide for themselves that her silence must mean whatever they want it to. 

But she is out of practice, with that, has not been a public figure in years, now, so it should not surprise her when, after the better part of an hour has passed, he turns to her suddenly, and says, “You know, you’re not what I was expecting.”

“Oh?” asks she, not sure if she has been too gentle or too sharp. Did he expect Ana, the mother, or Ana, the soldier? She is neither, now, or both at once. 

“Yeah,” says he, “From what Fareeha told me, I knew you wouldn’t be like in the press, but I guess I still didn’t know what to expect.”

(What Fareeha has said about her, Ana is certain she does not want to know, does not want to hear. It was likely unkind, and she can hardly blame her daughter for that, given the circumstances of their estrangement, but still, it is difficult to contemplate. No matter how distant they have become, she loves Fareeha dearly, wishes they were better suited to one another’s company, that she could have been a better mother to her, one that would have made her happier, because she loves Fareeha, she does, is proud of what she has accomplished, even if she wishes Fareeha had taken any other path but this one.)

“People are rarely like the media portrays them,” Ana says, instead of commenting upon his mention of her daughter. She does not think she ought to say anything about Fareeha, until the two of them have spoken properly, and she knows what Fareeha will allow her.

“Don’t I know it!”

That Lúcio would understand her sentiment is unsurprising, to say the least, given how famous he is. She knows not all things said about him in the media can possibly be true, and were she a more trusting sort of person, she might laugh with him, make this a moment to bond, to relate to one another as equals, a sort of common ground.

But Ana is not a trusting person, not anymore. She does not want anyone to be her equal, because she knows what it is to allow others to have power over herself, what it means when they betray her, and so she must keep herself apart from everyone, always, in any way that she can.

So, she plays dumb, pretends she has never heard of him, says, “This Overwatch isn’t that famous, yet,” because she wants to see how he reacts to that, someone not acknowledging his fame, his work. If he responds poorly, it will tell her much about him.

“Oh, I didn’t mean in Overwatch,” he says, not seeming hurt at all by her ‘assumption,’ “I meant because of my music.”

“You’re a singer?” Ana asks, as if she did know of him. Despite living in a necropolis for more than half a decade, she still has heard of Lúcio. 

He seems embarrassed, if anything, not surprised or offended, “DJ, actually. Singing’s not really my thing.”

Certainly, he is humbler than she expected, and so she decides to respond with more kindness than she was originally planning to. There is no need to push him, for it seems that nothing will come of it. “I’m sorry,” says she, as if it would bother her, to have not heard of someone famous, even though she thinks such a thing is ridiculous. Kind as he may be, no singer, thinks she, has contributed nearly as much to society as many of their comrades have, activists, scientists, and soldiers that they are. “I don’t really listen to DJs.”

(Her last point, at least, is true. She far prefers the music that her own grandmother introduced her to, when she was a small child, recordings of live performances of classically trained singers. When she was young it was only she, among her siblings, who had the patience to sit through an entire Umm Kulthum song, to listen for the entire hour with her grandmother, and therefore she alone who got to spend that time with her. Later, she would use that patience for something else, to work as a sniper, and to take lives, but then, it was only a good thing, uncommon in a child of her age.)

“It’s all good,” Lúcio tells her. “Everybody’s got different tastes.”

Ana only hums in response, not really knowing where to go with this conversation, having failed to find a weak point where she thought one would be. Outright criticism might have provoked a different response, she supposes, but it would be difficult to do so without revealing a familiarity with his work, and she is content, for now, to know that, whatever his reason for being here, it seems unlikely that it is fame he is after. Judging by his response to her not knowing him, he is not as driven by ego as she assumed he would have been, given his profession.

In another life, that would have earned him some of her respect, some of her trust, but Ana is not the woman she once was, and what she feels, instead, is only marginally less suspicious. She will not let her guard down around him until she has ascertained why it is he is here, is certain that he will last, in Overwatch, that his intentions are good. 

For now, she thinks him kind, thinks him friendly, thinks him funny, and nothing more.

After the betrayals she suffered in the old Overwatch, and her years spent alone, Ana will not trust easily again, must be wary of the motivations of others, cannot assume the best of anyone. As the woman she presently is, it feels too dangerous, to do so, feels like a life or death risk—and it is, in the field, it always is. She is simply now more aware of that fact than once she was.

To trust Lúcio now, after having only known him for a few hours, would be foolish at best, and is impossible for Ana, as she presently is, still healing from what was done to her, in the past.

Maybe one day, she will trust again, will allow herself to believe that others are honest when they tell her their intentions—at least some of the time. Never, she thinks, will she be able to trust strangers, never will she be able to stop feeling as if there is danger around every corner, but perhaps in time, she will be able to believe, again, the people with whom she works, the friends of her friends.

Maybe in the years to come, she will find it within herself to be friendly again, will not have to keep others at a distance in order to feel safe. She is not holding her breath, for war has taken from her the ability to be open, to be kind, has taken from her the luxury of trusting, of thinking the best of others, but still, she has hope. She does not want to always be the woman that war has made her, even if that has protected her, thus far, has kept her alive.

Maybe things will get better for her, in this new Overwatch, if she stays here. Perhaps she will be able to improve her relationship with her daughter, and to apologize to those whom she had to leave behind, when she ‘died,’ and if she is lucky, the ones who did not look for her will apologize to her, too, and they all can heal, somewhat.

For now, any of those things feel impossible, a lifetime away, and so she settles for this, the most she can do at the moment:

She decides that, even if she cannot trust Lúcio, not yet, cannot allow herself to be honest with him, she likes him, nonetheless.

That is not honesty, is not openness, is not trust or friendliness, but it is a start.

**Author's Note:**

> for those of you whose nanna did not make u listen to umm kulthum as a three yr old. okay 1) yes she was absolutely just trying to make me shut up for an hour so she could have some peace and quiet and 2) i am not exaggerating enta omry is 59mins long and every second of it is good! so good! like okay this is a lose translation for those of u who dont know arabic but "with your light began the dawn of my life / how much of my life before you was lost / it is a wasted past, my love" REALLY CUTS DEEP
> 
> theres a ch2 to this somewhere but i wrote it in january and my files are saved as things like "around 132" "sec keys" and "milky fun" so like. eh ill find it when i find it
> 
> for now i hope u enjoyed this


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